It's All We Have Left
by the substance
Summary: Lyna Mahariel's story through the two games, with some twists. There are always moments in life in which hope fills the heart. When this fades away, how will it change someone's sense of self? There has to be a breaking point.


It's All We Have Left

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><p>.prequel.<p>

.the first tragedy.

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><p>It was a restless night.<p>

The air was cool, still but comfortable. The places where the moon graced were given a pasty blue color. Stars glittered and speckled in the sky. The forest was slumbering as well, their leaves capturing the radiance and casting many shadows. This was a night one should appreciate, but none were content at the moment.

There were a few figures sitting, resting by the flames. It was tough for most to sleep. The events that recently happened were… shocking to say the least.

The elves' eyes shimmered in the fire's light. Men and women scattered among them, all having faded yet detailed vallaslin. They were few in number, all older and wiser then one would expect. The Dalish, such as they were, grew to impossible ages, even without their immortality. They were all of the same clan. They grew up with one another, supported each other through the toughest of times. As almost tradition for them, they, again, were together to mourn an old friend.

He was a powerful man, and they were lessened by his death. Not only that, but he was not alone in his trip to take an eternal walk. He had what one might say, a forbidden romance with an elf from another clan. She was a beautiful lady, with golden hair and eyes that seemed to drown people. Their romance was looked down upon by the hahren, but it never stopped the two from private meetings under the night time sky. Their love was moving; it plucked a powerful harmony that no one could break. This affair, their meetings in secret, under the silent moonlight that caressed the crowns of their head, had eventually produced a child.

They continued their surreptitious starlight gazing, even when his clan knew of this baby. He was well-liked by his clan, so the elves politely let them continue meeting. However, one seemingly somber night, their sacred moment was shattered by bandits. Though they were the best of their clan respectively, they were caught off guard by an ambush. Made of humans and elves, they sought valuables from anyone, and were idiotic enough to attack randomly in the forest.

The keeper jumped up from the ground he was laying on. He quickly shielded his lover, and analyzed the people before him. Shems… _elves._ He told her to run, to save their child. She rejected that thought. They were more powerful together, right? A keeper surrounded by nothing but nature and a warrior who knew the woods in which they slept. It was not known how he got her away, but she found herself in the camp of his clan, who were sleeping peacefully unknowing of the crimes recently committed. Scouts, previously unaware of their keeper's meeting, rushed to her aid, glancing at each other in suspicion, where was their keeper?

It was only in due time in which they found his body, stripped of his precious metals. There were two or three bodies to answer for this crime, but they were certain there were more who got away.

When the few scouts returned with the body, they found that the daughter of the late keeper was born. It was immediately realized that she inherited her mother's beauty. The mother, exhausted, gazed at the scouts in utter horror. Her face twisted in pain, she looked up at the rising sun, baby in arms. And with her precious child, she wept.

Her friend, Ashalle, took the baby from the mom. She cradled her and soothed her, and never left the woman's side for the day.

They said their farewells to the late keeper. He was finally beginning his slumber, albeit alone, and for his rest, the other's too found peace. However, it was she who could not bare his lost anymore. The night of her daughter's birth, she left.

The scouts tried to find her before dawn, but with no such luck. It was now that they all returned to the fire.

The new keeper, Marethari, stared into the flames. Her gaze never left, her eyes searching for some kind of answer to those many questions she was posed with.

The most relevant right now is what to do with the newborn.

It was Ashalle who held the child. The daughter was up but quiet, playing with a necklace that was found around her neck after her mother left them. The older lady embraced the small child, looking up at Marethari.

"Keeper," She said, the name no longer virgin to Marethari, "if the worst is expected…"

"I fear that has already become reality." Marethari responded, her words like poison on her tongue. She looked at the one across from her with kind eyes. "What was it you were coming too?"

Ashalle, broke eye contact to look at the child. She touched her soft cheek and sadly smiled. "Such a shame, for a beautiful child to lose so much, I can only pray to the Creators this will be her only hardship in her life."

"We all pray." The keeper knew better however. All elves encountered hardship. It was unfortunately a daily occurrence. They do not dwell on it, though, for they always remember that their kin is never too far away.

"She called her Lyna," Ashalle remembered. "She… she should take the last name of her father. Let it be known she is his blood, and she shall grow up strong just like her parents."

"Would it be kind for us to let her know of the circumstances of her birth?" Maren, a fiery red head, stated. "The Creators would find it sin to corrupt her heart with such… guilt."

"Then might the clan agree to not talk about this in front of her?" Marethari looked at the elves all around her. They silently agreed.

It was late, the stars said. The elves said their farewells to each other, and left to sleep. Ashalle, still by the dying fire, just continued to stare and ponder about Lyna.

She took the necklace off of Lyna, whose hand grasped it tightly in her sleep. Gently opening her hand, she found that she should use Lyna's mother's chest to leave it in. It would be a terrible tragedy if it was lost.

-.-.-

She was a happy child.

She was but ten, incredibly young, but so potent and filled to the brim with personality. Her closest friend, Tamlen, was almost always at her side. It was a carefree youth, shared by the others her age. Ashalle would wonder if it was her ignorance that left her happy.

There was a new face among the children. She was gifted with magic, and was to be the first to the Keeper. She would become a beautifully tenacious mage. Still, she didn't have much time to hear the lore of their people, when she herself had to learn the spells of nature, entrusted to a Keeper.

But she still had time for Lyna. They became close- or as close as they can be with their differing schedules. Merrill appreciated this from her, and thus became stronger from it.

It was daylight, and in the forest where they set camp was bristling with life. Mothers sat by flames, mending clothing and comforting kids with bruised knees. The hunters pulled yet another great hunt, acquiring deer, berries, and herb. One of them even managed to find iron bark, and the look on Ilen's face told it all. He was excited he could demonstrate again how to make a finely crafted weapon. While the youngest of the clan should have been learning how to pierce the head of a bear from 50 yards away, he would sneak them off and teach them about their dying craft.

He would always be surprised when he looked at the kids. They were grand in number, he thought to himself. Of course, they should be allowed to grow up together, and share the cherished few happy memories as blood.

He examined his iron bark, thanked the hunter, and went to his caravan.

They were prosperous, _happy_ now. Let the Creators allow this to continue for many years to come.


End file.
